Not Forgotten
by seriousish
Summary: Regina had asked for a glass of water while he explained it to her. Now, she ran her finger over the rim of the glass. "Car accident. Brain damage. Amnesia. We've had this conversation five times already, over the course of the last year. My treatment requires me to stay inside my own house. Otherwise, I could become confused and wander off. Like a stray dog." Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

"Regina? Ms. Mills?" Dr. Whale. He was still talking. "Have you understood everything I've told you?"

"Yes." Regina had asked for a glass of water while he explained it to her. Twenty grueling minutes. Now, she ran her finger over the rim of the glass. "Car accident. Brain damage. Amnesia. We've had this conversation five times already, over the course of the last year. I'm no longer mayor, and my treatment requires me to stay inside my own house. Otherwise, I could become confused and wander off. Like a stray dog." She smiled, almost unwillingly. "Henry's been taken away from me and sent to boarding school, seeing as it's distressing for him to see me like this. And I'm supposed to be getting better, though the fact that I can't remember growing my hair out would argue against that."

"It is a good sign," Whale argued. "Three months since a relapse. That bodes very well indeed."

Regina nodded. It was a forced gesture. Like someone was turning a crank and making her do it.

"Would you like to be alone?" he asked.

"Yes," she said instantly. "I would. It seems like something I should get used to."

* * *

Emma was waiting outside. All the cold cream and wet towels Mary-Margaret could muster couldn't diminish the damage. Her face was so bruised it looked like she was wearing facepaint, a cast around one arm, a limp when she stood, as she did now, too eager for news of Regina.

"She bought it?" Emma said, all her injuries somehow just making her more imposing.

"Judging by the stunned silence, I'd say so."

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"If you'd like, we could settle it this evening—"

"Whatever you're about to suggest, think hard about it. I've _just _managed to forget you had a one-nighter with my mom."

"Duly noted."

* * *

Emma came over during the weekend. Several reasons. She had nothing to do; she couldn't look at Henry without feeling guilty. The bruises had had time to fade. And she just needed to see Regina. Needed to; a funny choice of words, but accurate.

Regina answered the door with a sunny enough smile. It died a little upon finding it was directed at Emma, but only a little. The woman they had posing as Regina's nurse was gone; it wasn't good to give anyone too much access to Regina, knowing what she'd done. Regina still had the scar from someone who had gotten close and carried a knife. Emma wondered if she'd found it yet.

"Sheriff Swan," Regina said, having been waiting for Emma to speak. Emma had been waiting too; it'd never occurred to her that she'd be speechless. "I wasn't expecting you to show up here. Or to have been so damaged in shipping."

Regina's voice made it less of a jibe than it could've been. "Drunk and disorderly. Got very disorderly. Mind if I come in?"

Regina didn't move from blocking the door. "If you're going to ask about my whereabouts on some such night, I'm afraid I won't be very forthcoming."

"Regina…" Emma smiled. The lie climbed up her throat. It had such an easy passage; she wanted to make things right with Regina so badly. She wanted to beg for forgiveness from a woman who had separated her from her family for twenty-eight years. "It's Thursday. I always come visit on Thursday."

Regina blinked. "_Why?_"

"To talk about Henry, at first. Then, just to talk."

Henry's name was like Pavlov's bell. Regina fought it, but surrendered quickly. She stepped out of the way. "Inside."

The manor seemed chillier than before. Maybe with Henry got, Regina changed the thermostat to something she liked. Or maybe the nurse messed with it.

"How is Henry?"

"He's good," Emma said, trying to be honest. She knew instinctively she wouldn't have many chances for that. "He asks about you. When we talk."

"Skype?"

"Telephone."

"You should try for visual contact," Regina said. "I read it in a magazine, Contemporary Family Life. It's reduced divorce in military families with overseas deployments by thirteen percent."

"Oh. Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

"Coffee? Tea? Hot cocoa?" Without the front she put up, Regina was almost desperate to please. Emma knew that feeling. Being visited in prison.

When someone came into your dark little world, even though they saw you at your worst, it was perversely pleasurable. You couldn't get enough of it. Because it was proof that there was an outside, that you were being drawn there by an unbreakable safety line.

Regina didn't have a release date, of course. She just had Emma.

"Water's fine."

Regina nodded and went to get it. She came back with bottled water. Of course.

"He doesn't believe in fairy tales anymore," Emma said.

Regina didn't hesitate an instant. Her face didn't change a bit, except with relief. "Good. I was beginning to worry."

That was it then. Regina really couldn't remember.

_Goddamnit_.


	2. Chapter 2

Next Thursday, Emma came back. Whatever Regina had forgotten, she remembered Emma's blanket statement that it was a weekly occurrence, this… thing. It wasn't that long ago that Emma would've taken a steel-toed boot to the ribs over seeing Regina on a guaranteed weekly basis, but now it seemed almost fitting to ingratiate herself so. Like penance or something.

Not knowing what else to do, she fell back on college etiquette. Bring over some movies and get high. Not that she'd believe Regina, or at least _this _Regina, would light anything but a candle in a hundred years. But the movie part was sound.

"'Kill Bill'," Regina read, staring at the DVD case like a martinet searching for a spot of dust. "What a memorable title. And by Quentin Tarantino. A memorable auteur as well."

"You hate Tarantino," Emma not-quite-asked.

"I don't find spewing profanity and high school boy banter to be the height of dialogue. Any decent playwright gets that out of their system by the second play. Do you think Pinter would have his characters go on about some self-indulgent trivia?"

Emma almost giggled. Stripped of context—quite forcibly, in this case—Regina's domineering nature and perfectionist attitude was almost endearing. A pain in her ass, but apply it to something as silly as a kung-fu movie and it was hilarious. Regina probably had a scathing dismissal of Pogs stored somewhere in her hard drive.

"Give it a chance. For me."

Emma bit her lip, realizing what she'd done, wondering when she'd ever become such a good liar that she could bring up some nonexistent friendship just like that. Regina seemed to be having similar thoughts, her own doubts about Emma, but in the end, she was an any-port-in-a-storm girl.

"Twenty minutes, Sheriff Swan. And if I don't like it, we'll watch one of my films. I have a stunningly clear recording of a Russian ballet troupe ordered from PBS…"

* * *

Twenty minutes in and Regina surely noticed the time, but she left the remote squarely in Emma's hands. She had her legs folded, a pita chip neatly situated between her fingers, ready to make the trip from its bag to Regina's mouth when the woman dedicated she'd burnt away the calories of the last one. Emma should've brought popcorn; of course Regina didn't have any.

She herself sat at the opposite end of the couch, feet up on the coffee table. If Regina was judging her for it, she did so silently. They kept watching, the only noise besides filmed conversation about kung-fu movies being Regina's pita chips disappearing.

Then the ending.

Emma never had been great at school. Things slipped her mind. She had a great head for ex-cons and informants, not literature, and things like who exactly had killed Julius Caesar took a permanent vacation long before tests came along. So while Emma remembered the scene of the Bride hacking through a hundred hopefully-well-paid stuntmen, she'd forgotten the ending. Where it was revealed that Bill had taken the Bride's daughter and raised her as his own.

"I'd like to watch the next one," Regina said evenly, the credits rolling.

"Yeah. Sure. I've got it in my car."

When Emma came back, Regina was still sitting there, kneading the empty bag of pita chips into a small, small ball.

"Would you like a pizza?"

"Huh?"

"A pizza." Regina looked at Emma. "I'm told they're quite popular. We could order one and eat while we watch 'Volume Two'."

"Yeah, okay. I'll call."

* * *

The pizza came and Emma paid for it, hustling the delivery boy away before he could get a look at the big bad witch. Regina ate daintily, but cleaned her plate. She even had some of the breadsticks Emma had sprung for. And they watched Beatrix Kiddo get her bloody satisfaction.

After, the DVD menu looped on the TV, the pizza box sat empty on the coffee table, numerous wadded up napkins littered the floor, and Regina was casting longing looks at the cupboard where she kept the Hefty bags. But she was far too comfortable to move.

"That was enjoyable," Regina stated, like Emma was supposed to write her opinion down as law. "No one talking about comic book characters' sex lives."

"Do you think Quentin Tarantino is Kevin Smith? Is that it? He won an Oscar."

"So did Marisa Tomei." Regina stretched and yawned. "How'd you know I'd like it? Don't tell me I forgot turning into a Tarantino fangirl."

"I thought you might have a zeal for justice."

"Is that the most diplomatic way you could come up with of calling me a spiteful bitch?"

"Come off it. You know I don't mean it like that."

"You should." Regina abruptly stood, turning away from Emma to hide an embarrassing marinara stain. "I've been meaning to apologize to you. The last few days, I've been going over what little I can remember. And I haven't been as gracious as I pride myself on being—not toward you."

Emma should've felt weakened, sitting down while Regina stood over her, but at the moment, Regina was anything but imposing. Rounded shoulders. Head downcast. She looked like a parishioner at a fire and brimstone sermon.

"It was a… pretty stressful situation," Emma said, surprised at the pity she felt, even now. When had writing Regina off as a bitch become so hard? "Your kid ran away and then he came back, dragging a… replacement mommy. That's, you know… not exactly something Dr. Spock covers."

"Still, things could've gone smoother. The person I try to be would've made them go smoother; the person I am didn't." Regina tilted her head to the side, seemingly at the perfect sense this made. "I just had this… fury towards you. Like you were trying to steal Henry." Emma felt a stab of guilt. Since she actually had tried, once or twice. "And somehow, that anger's just gone now. Maybe with Henry away, I don't feel so possessive. It's a horrible thing, a mother feeling _possessive _toward a child. As if that's some kind of love."

"I wouldn't know," Emma said in a small voice.

"I just want you to understand that I'm sorry for the way I acted and I hope that from here on out, we can be friends."

"Of course." Emma helped her smile along, making it a little wider than the one she felt. "We already are friends, Regina."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. That's good." Regina's hands mated, fiddling together for dear life. "I should go get some bleach on this stain. If I let it set, this blouse will be ruined."

She hastened off. With her gone, Emma handled the clean-up, knowing how Regina would hate a spot in her spotless house. Sure, maybe she would've have just swept the crumbs under the sofa, but what Regina didn't know—

"Emma?" Regina asked from the doorway, now wearing a white T-shirt with an esoteric art logo—buncha squiggly lines—over the stomach. Her black bra glared through it, contrasting with creamy skin, and Emma tried not to stare. Weird, seeing Regina Mills so… human-y.

"Yeah?"

"The next time you talk to Henry, let him know… I would appreciate it if you passed on that I'm thinking about him. And I hope he's doing well in his studies and that if he needs anything he can tell you and you'll pass it on to me and—" Regina bunched her hand in her mouth. Emma had the impression of tears. Then Regina gathered herself and it was like flipping past a TV channel without lingering, just a blip of image and sound. "Tell Henry I miss him. If you don't think that will trouble him."

"Sure," Emma said. "Right. Is it alright if I," Emma jerked her thumb at the door. "I mean, should I stay? Or something?"

"No, no, I have things." Regina nodded. "Online things."

"Good. Okay. Thanks for the pizza."

"Thank you for the movie," Regina said politely, and nodded her head slightly. "Don't forget to take it with you."

Emma remembered. Otherwise, she'd have to come back to Regina's. She'd hate that so much.

* * *

Henry was parked in front of the TV when Emma got home, Mary-Margaret's apartment, David's apartment. The family's apartment.

"I already finished my homework," Henry said, not looking away from his cartoons. He was still operating on Regina-rules, expecting the law to get laid down if he had a toe out of line. And yet he got good grades, his teachers loved him, his friends were good kids… Emma knew he hadn't gotten that from her.

She went to him and hugged him tightly, tight enough to shut out the noisy world and hear his tiny heart pumping soundly.

"What was that for?" he asked afterward, not quite ready to go back to Nickelodeon.

"Nothing," Emma said. She'd have to practice lying somehow. She was going back to Regina's house in one week.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't end up taking that long to see Regina again. Call it whatever—Emma knew guilt, the orphanage nuns had instilled in her enough Catholicism to regret picking dollar bills off the ground (but not, oddly enough, doing drugs or driving getaway cars—a bit of a lapse in her moral education). The thing that compelled her to visit Regina early, on a bright and warm Wednesday while everyone was still working and learning, didn't feel like a guilty conscience. It was more like a tense muscle. She knocked on Regina's door and Regina answered and it was like she'd popped a kink in her neck. Ahhhh…

"Sheriff Swan," Regina said uncertainly, but cheerily enough. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem. I was just wondering if you'd like to… hang out."

"Hang out?" Regina repeated, brandishing the phrase like it was the name of a sex act Emma had just suggested performing on her.

"Yeah, like, ya know… bros." Emma nodded, as if she were 100% on-message.

Regina tilted her head, considering it. "What did you have in mind?"

Emma had actually been trusting in Regina's type-A personality to fill in the blanks there; 'I'm painting the house, Emma, so I suppose you can do the blue trim if you're not too pathetic about it.' But that was old Regina. New Regina was all… cuddly. It was disconcerting despite itself. Maybe that was just the fact that it was Emma's fault.

"We could go for a walk," Emma said, out of the blue. Unlike most things that came out of the blue to her, like what exclamation to use in front of Henry when she had just hit her thumb with a hammer, this one she liked. "I know you're kinda on lockdown, but I'd be there, so it's no big deal. If you get confused, I'll just put a leash on you."

If Regina was taken aback by that joke, she hid it well. "Why, Sheriff Swan, I didn't know you'd read Fifty Shades of Gray."

"Shut up, would ya?"

* * *

After a brief pause for Regina to throw on a jacket (unnecessary for the balmy weather, but it tied her ensemble together) and force some tea down Emma's throat (also unnecessary, but it tasted good), they were on their way. Regina's manor was a little ways out of town, superior by its isolation. Emma wondered what had stopped her for putting it on a mountain overlooking Storybrooke when she'd enacted the curse. Was the housing market bad even for magical spells?

They soon came to the end of the sidewalk and set out into the woods. Emma consulted her iPhone and saw they were miles from the mystical 'city limits'. The dwarves had spray-painted and even fenced in the boundary. No one was taking any chances with it, not after what it'd done.

"Not much conversation for a social call," Regina commented from up ahead. Emma sighed. Her brooding was getting to be a thing.

"Sorry. Maybe I just wanted some company."

"I wasn't criticizing. It's nice, having someone to share the fresh air with. And…" Regina reached out to take Emma's hand. Her skin was surprisingly warm, like it'd been in the light long enough to absorb all of the sun's rays. Emma felt the heat rise up her arm. "Keep me from wandering off," Regina finished.

Emma smiled to herself. Goddamn, this Regina was friendly. Almost an improvement. Well, no, wait… shit, here came the brooding again.

"So what do you do all day?" Emma asked, eager to change the subject. She'd have to stop comparing Regina to the person she'd been. It wasn't fair to anyone.

Regina was taken aback by the question, but she didn't show it. She just squeezed Emma's hand a little. "Well, I knit. Catch up on my reading. Watch some TV shows whose names I will not divulge."

Emma grinned. "TLC, right?"

"I cannot confirm nor deny…"

"It's not Grimm, is it? Tell me it's not Grimm."

"Quit before you lose access to my DVR."

"Didn't know I had it."

"Well, if you need to record something and Mary-Margaret also wants to watch something, and David wants to record something also, I suppose you could watch your show over at my place. I really bought that TV for Henry. Without him, it's being wasted on… Derek's abs."

"Oh my god, Teen Wolf, you ho."

"Well, I suppose it's best that comes out now rather than the next mayoral campaign." Their walk took them over the old toll bridge, the wooden planks doing their usual song and dance underfoot. Regina clung a little tighter to Emma, bringing her other hand around to steady herself on Emma's upper arm.

Intellectually, Emma should've been disgusted—the _Evil Queen _was pawing at her. But she just wanted to put an arm around Regina and keep her even closer. That was guilt. Had to be.

"I remember this place," Regina said distantly. "David Nolan." Her voice quickened. "This is where we found him. I remember him finding me on the street and asking me for directions back here. I suppose it was his and Mary-Margaret's 'spot'. I could've recommended a good bistro."

And Emma's body caught up to her intellect. It felt wrong being here with Regina, in someplace special to her parents. It felt like having sex in your parents' house—not that the houses she'd… christened… had belonged to _her _parents, but she recognized the feeling secondhand.

Off the bridge, she took a turn and steered them downriver. Regina relaxed her grip, instead settling her arm firmly into the crock of Emma's elbow. Emma felt all Victorian, like she was a Jane Austen character out for a stroll with her BFF, talking about how tight Mr. Darcy's ass looked in dem pantaloons.

Alongside them, the river sparkled and bubbled. Regina's eyes seemed drawn to it, like a kid visiting a zoo. Emma didn't know what was with her. Surely, she'd seen a dinky creek before, right?

"You want the truth?" Regina asked.

"Uhhh…" Emma replied eloquently. She half-expected Regina to start telling her about some shrunken heads in her freezer or something.

"I've been thinking of redecorating. Spending so much time in my house lately—having nothing to distract me—it doesn't seem suitable anymore. I walk around and it doesn't feel like my home. It's more like… a movie set, and someone's filming a biography of my life, but it's not me playing me, it's some actress and she's doing a bad job, the script is—" Regina raised a hand to her head, warding off a migraine. "It gives me nightmares, some of the things in my house."

"What do you mean?"

"Just the ambiance. It's so imposing. And that's not me, is it?"

"Nah. You're a kitten."

Regina grinned at the tease and Emma wondered when she had gotten to the point of sticking her head in the lion's mouth. The last time they'd sparred like this… "I realize I can be intimidating, Emma, but not once you get to know me. I may have some power, or I did, but my first concern is for my son. My second concern, of course, being the people of this town. And then there's little old me. There's not much in there to cause someone harm."

"As long as you have your priorities in order."

"Oh, they are. I will be reunited with my son, and to that I will get better, and to do that I will take any drug, complete any treatment, do any exercise… I will not leave Henry in the lurch."

As much as Regina's words were focused away from her, Emma still felt a shooting pain, this time wholly guilt. There was no telling how much of this might've been avoided if she hadn't given Henry up, if she'd been clean instead of addicted, if only, if only. Or would she have had Henry in the first place? Would she even have come to Storybrooke?

It was funny to think about, her and Regina, never having met, off in their own little worlds… equally miserable.

Regina's hand touching Emma's cheek was shockingly intense, not so much the gesture, but the contact. Emma had never known Regina to _touch _people. She could toy with them, string them along with little flirtations that promised more, but even with Henry, she'd been closed off. As a result, Emma and Henry had been like strangers living together, going days not knowing how to touch or talk, just feeling each other out like new roommates. They'd sorted it out, settled into a new routine, but Regina had _raised _him and yet a part of her had never come to terms with loving someone who wouldn't hurt her back.

And now here Regina was, making the kind of simple gesture that Emma knew she hadn't been capable of before. It was like seeing a bird underwater. "That's not to imply, of course, that you did anything except what was best for Henry. You did the best you could. We both did."

"Yeah. What makes me worry is whether our best is good enough."

Regina's hand lingered, the back of a finger drawing over Emma's cheekbone as it left. "Do you think I turned out alright?"

Emma didn't know quite what to say. "I think you're a work-in-progress."

Regina grinned, more pleased by the diplomacy than she would be by a little white lie. "And aren't we all."

"But I think the result is going to be spectacular."

Regina smiled. Emma had never seen that before either. She'd seen tight, controlled grins—smirks—even simpering—but this was the first time Regina had released herself enough to express a kind of joy. Or maybe it was just something she hadn't felt in the time Emma had known her.

The sheriff was a little embarrassed. It wasn't that much of a compliment. She looked away, biting her lip, and felt her cheeks burn. Christ, why had she even said that? She sounded like she was asking someone to the prom.

"Well," Regina said, traces of happiness in her voice, "there wasn't much 'work done' on me for a long time. My mother died when I was very young."

"I'm sorry."

Regina waved her off. "My father took care of me. He was very supportive, very loving. He called me his little princess. His death is what inspired me to get into politics. I wanted everyone in this town to have someone that looked after them the way my father looked after me."

"That's very noble."

"It was," Regina hesitated, "ambitious. To lay claim to that much love. An entire town looking up to me. Maybe a father's love wasn't enough. Maybe a son's love wasn't."

"Well, I think it's good. That you have such happy memories, I mean, not that people died. Even though I assume they died very peacefully and not, you know… Saw IV."

Regina blinked calmly. "The more you're with me, the more tongue-tied you seem to get. Funny, you never had any trouble coming up with things to say to me before." Not true. Emma had had plenty of trouble coming up with things that were acceptable to say within earshot of a child. "Perhaps it's good that I'm no longer mayor. Imagine how it'd look, you tripping over your words whenever we have to work closely together."

"It's a price I'd be willing to pay."

Regina tried that smile again, but there was too much sadness there to pull it off. "I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat. I'd give you my happy memories for a chance to make new ones. It's hard to talk, knowing that this conversation could slip away any moment."

"Regina—" Emma wanted to confess. Right then, right there. Tell Regina everything, even if it meant she herself ended up facedown in that river. "You're going to get better."

"I know. I have to know. No matter how many times I've done this, I have to keep believing that this time will be different. I just can't forget that this moment is all I have. And what I feel in it, I can't keep to myself. Or it will be lost. To everyone."

Regina took a step closer and God, she'd never been intimidating when Emma had just thought she was a corrupt mayor with a crime lord in her pocket. Or even the wicked witch of the west. Something in Emma's gut was twisting, cold and scared and desperately anxious. And still Regina came, closer and closer, her hands kneaded together. Unsure what to do with them until she was right next to Emma and then they parted, opening wide and coming down around Emma to pull her in close, her chin fitting to the other woman's shoulder like a puzzle piece, her breath coming shallowly as Regina embraced her. Like the woman was squeezing the life from her.

"You're such a good friend," Regina said, hugging her. "I should've let you be my friend earlier. It would've been so nice, being able to look back on our friendship, instead of just me being a bitch."

"Regina…" It was like the name was a fish-hook, pulling out anything else Emma could say. And, out of the blue: "Let's do this tomorrow. Ride bikes. It'll be fun."

"I'd like that." Regina wasn't letting go. "I haven't biked since I was a girl."

"Good thing is it's like something else that's like riding a bike. You never forget."

Corny joke, but Regina was nice enough to laugh. They broke apart and Emma took Regina's hand again, feeling her own warmth added to Regina's.

"You going to walk me home, Swan?" Regina asked, no longer beaming, but cheery enough. The sadness at bay. "You're more gentlemanly than some dates I've had."

"I also put out more."

Regina giggled. It was a lovely sound.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Emma laid in bed with Henry, reading him the stories from his book, helping him write down the happy endings he'd added. She ran her fingers through his hair and tried to believe this. If nothing else, she was self-aware. She knew she was a barely functional lout with deep-seated personal issues and some profound moral failings. She wasn't like Regina; she remembered all the bad decisions she'd made, all the stupid short-sighted idiocy, all her crappy life.

And yet, here was Henry. This little person, all curious and smart and kind, who'd just detached from her like a plane breaking formation or something. It was like whatever shred of goodness she'd had left after the foster system and, yack, high school had crystallized into this one tiny _guy _and then jumped ship, leaving her as rotten as ever. And now they were back together and he was like an organ transplant, making her a full human being. It hurt sometimes, wondering what else she could've gotten right if she'd done this good more than once.

They finished a chapter. Kathryn was reunited with Frederick. So Emma set aside the book and massaged her writing hand.

"Henry, you know your mother loves you, right?"

"Yeah, of course you do," he answered smartly. "You spoil me, like, rotten."

It was a little truer than Emma would've liked to admit. By her reasoning, she had a lot of birthdays to make up for and it wasn't like there were any good concert tickets in Storybrooke to spend her money on instead. Besides, Mary-Margaret and David couldn't be counted on to spoil him—they thought a good present was, like, a bow.

"Not me," Emma said. "Regina."

"Oh." Henry sounded dismal. "Yeah, I guess." Like _if you wanna get technical about it._

"Maybe you could come with me to see her sometime, if you feel up to it."

"Mom, Regina's the _Evil Queen_, okay? Why would I want to see her?"

"She's changed," Emma argued. "She's not the person she used to be."

"It doesn't count if it's not her choice."

"You know it's more complicated than that. You're my son and I would never let anything bad happen to you… but Regina is my friend. And maybe it would do you both some good if… you know what, forget it. She's not your mother. You don't have to see her if you don't want to."

Emma picked up the book again. When she opened it, Henry watched the pages fly by, all the happily ever afters blurring together.

"She's alright, though?"

"Regina's fine. She's just trying to figure out who she is." Emma looked down at Henry. "She's had a lot of people telling her that over the years. For her, it's weird not hearing them."

"You're gonna tell me she's good and she's not. I know she's not. You went to see her and you came home all beat up. I know she did that to you, so why are you defending her?"

"Because I started the fight."

* * *

Regina was sitting up on the porch when Emma came over, already wearing a cyclist's outfit, helmet in her lap, sunglasses low on her nose. "Sheriff Swan."

Emma popped the trunk of her car and wrestled her bike out, trying not to let on that she'd bought if for just such an occasion. She was sure she'd packed a nice mountain bike before moving, but maybe she'd actually donated it one Christmas on account of not needing a half-measure between walking and driving.

"Go easy on me, alright?" Emma asked in her sweatsuit and tennis shoes, looking like an MMA trainee next to an Olympic hopeful when she took her place by Regina. "I haven't done this in a while."

"I'll be gentle," Regina cooed, bringing up her kickstand. "Just try and keep up; moan pathetically if you need me to slow down."

"I was just going to say 'gasp, you're so much faster than me,' but if you want me to moan, that's fine."

They took off, Regina mercilessly hitting the afterburner. Emma was hard-pressed to keep up, but to her surprise, she managed to get neck and neck with Regina. They kept on like that, bent over their handlebars like galley slaves, the wind rushing by, not slowing down until they had to take the toll bridge. Regina eased off long enough to drink from a water bottle attached to her bike's frame. Some of it spilled over her throat. Lower.

"How is it _I'm _the one who feels overdressed?" Emma asked, looking her over. The spandex left little enough to the imagination.

"I just have one of those bodies that make people feel perpetually overdressed." Regina handed the bottle over as they lazily caught their breaths. "Don't fret. I already paid for it in high school."

"Oh, were you a cheerleader?"

"School slut, depending on who you asked—me or anyone else. Really seemed to surprise them when I ended up valedictorian." Regina grinned to herself. "I went commando on-stage, just to mess with them."

"Oh my God… Regina Mills: The College Years."

"We should write Sweet Valley Twin books together." Regina narrated dramatically "When the brilliant Regina Mills went to Maine's most exclusive prep school, she never expected to meet the roguish Emma Swan."

"Roguish… that is such a nice way to put it."

"I'd hoped you would like it."

They reached the other side of the bridge. It stopped threatening them with its grumbling and they took off again.

"I should've fixed that while I was in office," Regina mused. "I had no idea this was such a hot spot."

"I'm pretty sure we have it all to ourselves."

"Great. More danger for us."

Emma pumped her fist, then played at cutting Regina off with her bike. "Safe is no fun."

"Prove it," Regina dared, and took off. Emma tried following, but it didn't take long to realize Regina _had _been going easy on her. She kept sight of Regina's back as they raced at breakneck speed over the trail, around curves, between trees, almost out of control, not quite.

She lost sight of Regina and caught her again, bike parked at the lake the creek fed into. Regina was standing as Emma pedaled up, drinking from her bottle like it was the Holy Grail.

"Good work-out," Regina said.

"Because you won."

"I'm competitive."

"You like to win. There's a difference."

"Oh?" Regina tossed the bottle high in the air so Emma had to reach to catch it. "What's that?"

"I think one has to do with proving something to yourself, and the other has to do with proving something to everyone else. I read that. I think." Emma drank. "It might've been in a movie."

"Well, you're the only one here. What am I trying to prove to you?"

"Maybe you just need me to prove something to yourself."

"You were a joy in debate club, weren't you?"

"So that's what those kids who smoked with me under the bleachers called themselves. They never really introduced themselves…"

Regina regarded Emma with a half-smile as she undid her suit's shoulder straps and eased the material down her body.

"Uh, Mills? I didn't know this was a clothing-optional bike club."

"Relax. I'm not going commando today." She rolled the spandex down over her bra. K-mart white and sweaty as hell. Still, there was only so much a bra could do not to flatter _those. _

"Shame. I was planning on giving you a diploma. Honorary degree from the School of Hard Knocks."

"I could finally prove to people I was hardcore," Regina mourned sarcastically as she helped the suit down her legs. Matching panties. Emma looked up quickly.

"I really could use an explanation for the nudity before more banter."

"I'm going swimming," Regina said, taking her shoes off.

"Uh-huh." Emma would ask if she'd been hit on the head recently but, well…

"I loved swimming as a little girl. I had those floating Transformers that turn into jet skis and everything. But I can't remember the last time I went for a swim. Literally. Maybe I'm just that uptight. Couldn't let the hoi polloi see me in a bathing suit. Well, you won't tell them about my tattoo, will you?"

"What tattoo, where-?" Emma looked over Regina's body—holy shit—before meeting her eyes. Full grin. "Oh. _Now _you're being sarcastic."

"Are you joining me or playing lifeguard?"

"What if I'm not wearing underwear?"

"That's a chance I'm willing to take, Sheriff."


	5. Chapter 5

Regina had an amazing body. Full stop. Emma was, like, ninety percent straight, so she was more than qualified to say that Regina was downright _bangin'. _She had just the right amount of soft bits and hard bits and bits that Emma thought were Photoshop when a celebrity showed them off on the cover of Cosmo. Apparently, being deposed had given her a lot of time for Pilates.

Emma, on the other hand, had had cheeseburgers for both lunch and dinner yesterday. She jogged, but there was this hot dog stand on her route, and one thing often led to another. Her midsection had some definite potbelly potential, whereas Regina's looked like a quarter could be bounced off of it. Hell, a .45-caliber bullet.

"The water's fine," Regina said, paused up to her knees in the lake so all of her… charms were on display. In fact, some of them were reflected in the water. She was making skinnydipping look like a photo shoot.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Emma swore, checking her boobs' position in her bra one last time. It had to be bad feminism to get in the water with all that and not have your own girls front and center. Disrespectful, or something.

Regina merely chided "Promises, promises" and ventured deeper. Moaning in pleasure, she leaned back and let the water take her, floating belly-up like she had emergency flotation devices on her person. Emma could guess where they'd be stored.

Defiantly, Emma pulled off her shirt and pulled down her jeans before she could think better of it, adding her boots and socks to the pile last. Regina just floated there, lazily stirring the surface with her fingers.

"My, my, Emma. Police work must be good exercise."

"Don't start…"

"I'm being absolutely sincere. You look ravishing."

Emma dipped her toe in the water to check the temperature. Regina hadn't lied, for once. It was the perfect tepid temperature for a warm day and a sweaty bike ride. "Yeah, compared to you, I'm chopped liver."

"That's true," Regina shrugged, prompting Emma to stomp her way deeper into the lake. "But chopped liver can taste exquisite with the right side-dish."

"You saying I look good enough to eat?"

"Good enough to have sex with, even."

Emma paused with the water licking at her waist. "Uh, Regina… you're not… I mean…"

"I'm speaking hypothetically, of course."

"Of course."

"So are you?"

Emma paused again, another inch of her underneath the water. "Am I what?"

"Well, I'm sure I wouldn't know what the kids are calling it these days, but—'seeing anyone'?"

"No, no, God no. Not with Henry around."

"I thought he was at boarding school."

Emma thought fast. "You know how it is. It still feels like he's right there, needing help with his homework and… plus, I just haven't met anyone who's really—"

"Ovary material?" Regina supplied.

"I'm sure it's not called that. Even by the kids."

Regina dipped her head back in the water. Her hair was floating around her like a wreath. Emma tried to swim over to her, but with a saucy flip, Regina was on her belly, cleaving the water at two miles an hour like she was born to the water, cutting through the water with a professional breaststroke. Emma followed her, not so much cutting through the water as snipping at it with safety scissors.

Regina stopped in the middle of the lake, treading water as she watched the lake settle to mirror-smoothness. Emma was nowhere to be seen.

"Sheriff Swan?" Regina called. "Whatever you're going to do, I'm sure I won't find it amusing."

Suddenly, she felt sly fingers undo the clasp on her bra and pull it away, Emma surfacing behind her seconds later, holding her wet prize aloft.

"Yoink!"

"Sheriff Swan!" Regina held an arm over her breasts, making it somewhat harder to keep afloat. "I'll have that back, please."

"And what'll ya give me for it?"

Regina thought it over. Then she splashed Emma.

"Oh, _so it's treason then." _Emma said, which didn't make sense, but sounded cool.

Regina had to hide her boobs, which only have her one arm for splashing, but Emma had to hold onto the bra, so they were both one-legged men at an ass-kicking contest. Emma tried to splash with the hand holding the bra, but just managed to hit herself with the metal hook, which made Regina laugh, which made Emma laugh, which somehow led to Regina swimming into Emma and dunking her.

Which led to Emma, underwater, seeing how attractive Regina's nipples were. Which was bullshit, because Emma had been hoping Regina had some debilitating disease that made her nipples all gross, or at least piercings. (Emma had no piercings, just a tattoo on her lower back. It was of a raven, so, classy as fuck.)

"Are you two alright?"

Regina let Emma up. Granny, granny-with-a-crossbow Granny, was at the other end of the lake. With a basket even.

"We're fine!" Regina called back, meekly taking shelter behind Emma's somewhat clothed torso.

"What are you doing in there?"

"We're fine!" Regina repeated.

"Regina lost her watch in the lake and I'm helping her look for it!" Emma said quickly, years of explaining that 'incense' smell in her bathroom finally coming in handy.

"It's an antique!" Regina added. "It belonged to my grandmother."

Emma winced inwardly. Of course, Regina had no way of knowing that her grandmother was really a dragon or something, which Granny knew, and dragons and other fairy tale creatures couldn't own watches so, yeah… whatever Granny thought they were doing in the lake, now she knew they were lying about it.

"What are you doing?" Regina called out, like she was just making polite conversation.

"Gathering herbs for my potions."

"Are those FDA-approved?"

"My potions?"

"You really should see a doctor if you're experiencing any illness." Emma rolled her eyes at Regina. Leave it to her to have a PBS moment in the middle of skinnydipping. "These alternative medicines and holistic remedies, they're just a bunch of scam artists. You might as well believe in unicorns."

"I do believe in unicorns!"

Emma forced a laugh. "That's nice, Granny, we really have to get back to the search now!"

Regina lowered her voice. "I think she means it. That woman is a caregiver."

"Drop it, Regina."

"Ruby depends on her, you know."

Granny was moving off, as ready to have the conversation over with as they were.

"And now she thinks we're a couple of perverts," Emma announced.

"She's half-right," Regina said.

"You mean there are three perverts here?" Emma asked innocently.

"Shut up and give me my bra. You've convinced enough people of my exhibitionist tendencies for one day." Regina was unamused in a very amused way.

Emma bit her lip. "Okay, you're going to laugh at this."

Regina smiled sweetly. "I bet I'm not."

"I dropped your bra, please don't kill me, I'm a cop, you'd get the death penalty." After all that, Emma stopped to take a very big breath.

Regina stared at her, arms at her sides to keep aloft, her breasts just below the rippling water. _Don't look_, Emma told herself. _You definitely do not have looking privileges after grand theft bra._

"Alright," Regina said with a shrug. "You owe me a bra." And without a second look, she swam back to shore.

_Nice breaststroke_, Emma thought before wanting to slap herself.


	6. Chapter 6

Emma hated the princess-y stuff. Not that she was in love with being the sheriff of a town of fairy tales—feeding Ruby her steak during the full moon, keeping Peter Pan out of the elementary school, getting Sleeping Beauty her caffeine. But at least it was interesting. But this princess junk… she had to wear a dress. Not just any dress, like an evening gown, because she could deal with evening gowns. Her… monstrosity had petticoats.

And then she gathered in town hall while her parents sat on their thrones and a bunch of bluebirds flew around and they all sang together and it was just. So. Boring. She put up with a lot, but musical numbers? She was okay with her life being a bedtime story, just not Glee.

So, when her phone vibrated and it was Regina, Emma let her lyric be "I've gotta take this" (which did not rhyme with "Here in our village / there's no need for tears"), and left.

Outside, Emma plugged her other ear with her finger to keep out the karaoke. They were singing an 'I Want' song. So needy. "Hey Regina, what's up?"

"Sheriff Swan, come over. I made apple tarts and I have wine."

"Wow, okay, that was shot from the hip. Sorry, I can't. I have this town… meeting… thing."

"Those I don't miss. The wine is white, if that makes a difference."

"I really wish I could. But I have responsibilities and duties and all this dumb stuff. They haven't even gotten to the pitch change."

"The what?"

"It's a long story. Just… uggggh… I wish we could stay up late and have a sleepover or something, just in a really adult way."

"An adult sleepover, Sheriff Swan?" Emma could _hear _Regina's grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Not what I meant!" Emma sighed, picturing Regina all alone and wondering how lonely she would have to be to reach out like this. They were friendly now, but still, she doubted Regina was the type of person to just casually drop a line to 'her girls'. "Are you going to be okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine. Enjoy your public humiliation. The trick is to remember that their taxes pay your salary, so technically you're getting away with robbing them."

"You have a twisted mind."

"Goes with your panties. Public humiliation, _go._"

"Fine, I'm on my way, I'm going."

Emma hung up. And gathered herself to go do some princess shit, but then she thought, apple tarts. She'd skipped breakfast and had a 'healthy' lunch. She deserved apple tarts. She could tell Regina about Jefferson's crusade to take back fedoras from men's rights activists. She could get out of this goddamn dress.

Emma went back inside and found herself telling Ruby that she didn't feel well and could she please tell Snow that she was heading in early?

* * *

Back in jeans and a tee, Emma drove up to Regina's place. She paused in her parked car to check her hair, wondered what the hell she was doing, and went to ring the doorbell.

Regina answered in a dress that made Emma instantly envious. It was all slim and classy and black, like she was going to perform a lounge song for a bunch of GIs or something.

"Sheriff Swan, I'm so glad you changed your mind," she said, favoring Emma with a large smile.

"First time for everything. Need a ride to the ball?"

"Oh, this? I was just checking to see if it still fit." Regina gave Emma a twirl. "What do you think?"

"Right now, I'm thinking 'did she seriously just twirl?'"

Regina laughed. "Come in. I'll get you some tea."

"I was told there would be wine," Emma faux-grumbled as she entered the premises.

As usual, her boots clomped on the marble floor and Regina smiled generously, leading Emma to one of the rooms with a name that only Downton Abbey people could figure out. There was a fire going and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket, along with a disc cued on the record player. Emma had always wanted to try one of those. She flicked a switch, got it spinning, and then managed to maneuver the needle into a groove. Silky music started playing, something acoustic. Emma couldn't place the decade. Older than her, that was for sure.

"Why, Regina, were you expecting company?"

"I invited you over, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but the dress, the music, the fireplace—you didn't hit DTF on some Craiglist ad when I turned you down, did you? Because I'd hate to think I'm throwing up cliterference."

"Cliter—oh, I get it. Very amusing." Regina pulled the needle up on the record player. "No, I was just going to enjoy a quiet evening at home. Here." She picked up a plate of apple tarts from the table that was also part of the room for some rich person reason. "You have one of these and I'll slip into something more comfortable."

"That looks very comfortable," Emma commented.

"It's, ummm…" Regina kneaded her hands together. "I'm going to change!" she announced.

Emma had no idea what that was all about. But the tarts were good. Emma restricted herself to two and held a staring contest with a third. She distracted herself by opening the wine, which possibly wasn't as disciplined as she was hoping to come across. She sat down on the couch, contenting herself with sniffing the wine like a very mannered, non-butch person. Then she felt fingers in her hair, adjusting it neatly and only occasionally touching her scalp.

"You have such lovely hair," Regina said. "You could really do a lot more with it."

Emma stood. "Thanks, I was thinking of wearing it up or something." Emma stood. Regina kept touching her, a finger running down the back of her neck and pausing in the collar of her T-shirt like Regina wanted it _off._

"Madame Mayor," Emma said, trying to fall back on old protocol before remembering Regina wasn't mayor anymore. She turned around.

Regina wasn't wearing her dress. She wasn't quite wearing underwear either. It was some kind of lingerie, two shadows that held fast over her breasts and crotch. Regina bit her lip nervously, then gave another little twirl. Emma swallowed.

"I've been thinking about kind of person I am—or want to be, really. There's a lot I want to change. I'd like to be more patient, more kind, all that stuff. But I don't want to be a person who wants something and doesn't go after it."

She took hold of Emma's hand and squeezed it with growing confidence. She brought it up as if to kiss it, then instead ran the fingers of her other hand over Emma's palm, down her wrist, even up to the muscles of her arm. It felt nice. Emma couldn't say it didn't feel nice.

"Do you want this?" Regina asked.

Emma couldn't think. She could barely breathe. She kept feeling those fingers, imagining them over her breasts, her lips, her belly—lower, deeper.

"Do you want me?" Regina asked.

"I…"

Regina's fingers ran down Emma's arm, back to her hand, locking with Emma's fingers. Squeezing so tight Emma wouldn't have believed she'd ever let go.

"I do want you," Emma said, because she couldn't lie, not with it at the forefront of her thoughts, not with every brain cell in her head picturing what it would be like: kissing Regina, lying with Regina. God, how could she be so _stupid? _"But we can't."

"Why?" Regina asked insistently, hiding her disappointment behind a sudden need to know. Her hand was now cold and clammy in Emma's. "I don't expect you to change your mind, but there must be some explanation, something—" Something we can work out.

"It's me. I'm not who you think I am. You don't know me."

Regina squeezed Emma's hand again. "You're a recovering drug addict slash ex-con slash bounty hunter. What else can there _be?"_

"It's complicated."

"I'm good with complicated. Let me help. Please." Regina raised Emma's hand to her lips as if she were speaking into it and the feel of her breath on Emma's skin made her want to stop fighting, for one minute of one hour, and just rush into Regina's embrace.

"I lied to you, okay? You have no idea how much I lied to you, how much I _hurt _you. I've been trying to make it up to you. That's… what this was."

"You _lied_?" Regina asked, disbelievingly. "Emma, all you've done is be here for me. You haven't been telling me things. You've been listening. So I don't care what you kept from me, because I know you. You're someone…"

Regina let go of her hand and Emma let it drop to her side.

"You're the kind of person I dream of," Regina confessed. "So maybe you're something else too, but you can't expect me to care more about that part than about _you._"

"I should go," Emma said, not moving. "I shouldn't have come here, I shouldn't have been here, _you shouldn't_—"

Emma managed to take a step, and another, brushing past Regina. She felt a hand clinging to hers, holding onto her, then needing arms wrapped around her from behind.

"I know you can't. But while you're _not,_ I want you to think about me. And think about this."

Emma felt her head turned, just a few inches, and Regina barely breathing, but the hot air running over her throat, and then Regina's lips against hers, gentle and insistent and over far too soon.

"Sheriff Swan," Regina said, her fingers trailing out of the other woman's. "_Emma._"

Emma started to breathe again. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."


	7. Chapter 7

Emma had never really thought about it before, but now that she had thought about it, she realized kissing was dumb. You did it once with a girl—once!—and you ended up thinking about that poster of Agent Scully you had over your bed in elementary school, or all those slumber parties you had with your best friend in high school, or that girl you went down on in college.

Which, she'd resigned herself to being slightly gay a long time ago. But gay for Regina Mills? She'd always wanted someone who was smart and proper and slightly naughty, but did it also have to be someone that was capable of mass cursing? She could handle guyliner, but a supervillain was a bit much. If Emma forgot to DVR Pretty Little Liars, what would Regina do, set something on fire?

Unless Regina had changed, as evidenced by her making a pass at Emma, which Emma still couldn't get over. Maybe Emma could just tell her some of the truth, the parts that were easy to explain, and if Regina understood, they could move on from there. Yes. That sounded good. Emma picked up her phone and dialed Regina. The fact that she didn't have the ex-mayor on speed dial was mitigated by how she'd memorized Regina's number.

"Emma?" Regina answered, in a voice that sounded like this call would cost Emma 3.95 a minute. "I didn't expect you to call so soon. I'm still in my underthings."

Would you stop? "Well, ya know, never go to sleep on an argument." Would I stop? "Yeah, so, I think we left some issues unresolved and we should—resolve them. Not over the phone. Face to face."

"I understand. So I'll see you later?"

"Absolutely. Nice talking to you!" Emma hung up before her palms got too sweaty. How could a lesbian relationship be so hard, you moved in together on the second date! The girl in college had never given Emma any problems.

* * *

Despite the closure, Emma couldn't sleep. That teensy conversation with Regina had filled Emma's head with scenarios. What if she came over tomorrow and Regina was wearing a leather fun-time outfit? Or a fut coat and nothing else? Or—

There was a knock at the door. Emma shook off the thought of Regina dressed as a cat to go answer it. It was Regina. Wearing a trenchcoat, not a fursuit.

"Regina!" Emma exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Regina flipped her hair alluringly. "I do still recall how to call a taxi. Although my driver seemed to have horns. I don't think they should be allowed to wear something so unprofessional on duty. May I come in?"

"Of course, anytime—I mean, right now."

Regina breezed past Emma, her long legs sneaking out of her coat's hem like the tide in deep water.

"I was kinda thinking we could have that talk tomorrow," Emma said, "at your place."

"We still can." Regina untied the belt of her coat. "I didn't come here to talk." She opened her coat and shucked it off in the same motion. Nothing, not even lingerie, underneath. That just wasn't fair.

The funny thing was, Emma didn't have any trouble holding Regina's gaze. "If you knew what I'd done, you wouldn't be here."

"If I cared, I wouldn't be here. Whatever happened between us, it must've been as much my fault as yours. If you can forgive me, I can forgive you. Let me show you how much I care for you. You can tell me your secret afterward, and you'll see that it changes nothing. Besides, I literally can't remember the last time I had sex. Are you really going to let that stand?"

Emma just shook her head. Regina wasted no time, her hands flying to Emma's face like she was going to choke her, but instead flattening along Emma's jawline. She was held steady as Regina approached, smiling apologetically for her own forcefulness; apprehensive again, Regina just licked Emma's mouth instead of kissing her. She listened to the sharp intake of Emma's breath.

"You'll say it later," Regina predicted. "How much you want me. I'll make you say it."

Emma would've said it now if she could speak. Hell, she knew a little sign language, she would've signed it if she could move.

Stopping for a moment to just hold Emma in her hands, her thumbs coyly running along Emma's face, Regina broke into a smile. Larger this time. With a gentle forcefulness that seemed completely Regina, she lowered Emma to her naked breasts. Emma couldn't even open her mouth. She let herself be nuzzled against Regina's chest, the warm skin and its overwhelming softness filling her world.

And then, like a storm cloud suddenly breaking, Emma felt herself respond in kind to Regina's aggression. She wasn't in awe of Regina's beauty anymore—she wanted to claim it. She wrapped her arms around Regina's midsection, bit down on Regina's breast like a starving vampire. The two fell against the wall, Regina on her back, Emma practically mounting her. She moved up, trying to take the kiss Regina had denied her earlier, but Regina had a death-grip on her hair. Breathing hard and practically vibrating with excitement, Regina ushered her back down to her other breast. Her soft, unmarked breast.

"Emma," Regina moaned softly, as her hard pink nipple was utterly consumed by the sheriff's affection.

Emma didn't know how long she stayed there, treating Regina's body as her own personal playground, licking, biting, sucking, her hands never straying from the smooth length of Regina's back, never giving her the chance to remove her succulent cleavage from Emma's mouth. But long minutes, or maybe hours, later—

"Emma. Emma." Emma felt Regina's hands on her face once more, insistently forcing her head back to meet Regina's eyes. And, oh, her eyes. They weren't glazed with lust. They were sharpened by it, whetted, hungry for it. Regina looked like a woman in the middle of a rainstorm after a drought; Emma a tall glass full of cool water, needing to be used, to quench.

"It's time," Regina said, now stroking Emma's hair with a surprising tenderness. She pulled Emma up to her feet.

"Time?" Emma asked.

"No more foreplay. I think it's time we make our way to the bedroom."

"That was foreplay?"

"Yes." Regina suddenly cupped Emma's crotch. Emma hadn't realized how wet she was until she felt Regina's fingers, trying to get in but restrained by the denim of Emma's pants, the friction of the attempt lighting her up like a match in gasoline.

"I want you," Emma said. "I want you so fucking bad."

"Yes," Regina said again. "And now," she predicted, "you're going to show me."


	8. Chapter 8

Regina dropped on Emma's bed like a gift from heaven, arms spread but legs quickly crossing, hiding just how wet she was from Emma's eyes. Her whole body was slick with sweat, but her breasts practically glowed, licked clean by Emma until you could've built microchips on them. Her nipples seemed permanently hardened.

Biting a fingernail in a proven come-on pose, Regina gave Emma the eye. "Sheriff Swan, that's an awful lot of clothing you're wearing to our lovemaking."

"Oh, I—" Emma looked down at her ensemble of a wifebeater and tattered jeans. Underneath, her underwear was a midnight-blue set from Dolce & Gabbana, something Mary-Margaret had insisted on picking up for Emma on a shopping trip. _You never know when you may have to look your best for some lucky guy. _Thanks, Ma, you were half-right.

"I can fix that," Emma concluded, opening her belt. Regina's eyes grew wide, putting the lie to the seductress act. They seemed to get wider as Emma worked the belt out of its loops, then cinched it in a circle. "Why, Regina, do you feel like you need to be punished?"

Regina bit her lip. "Put a pin in that for now. I want you all to myself. No leather."

"Oooh, leather." Emma tossed her belt aside and wiggled out of her jeans. "The plot thickens." Stepping out of her jeans, she reached for her panties.

"No!" Regina said rapidly. "Now your shirt."

"Oh, you…" Emma pinched her shirt between her thumb and forefinger, pulling it up her belly, "want me to take my shirt off now?"

Regina nodded with quite a bit of dignity for a woman watching a striptease.

"And not my panties?" Emma asked, pulling the waistband down just a little, allowing a little of her pubic hair to poke out.

"Sheriff Swan—" Regina breathed, annoyed, but her voice rougher than usual. Turned on.

Emma wondered how many times in the past she'd annoyed the hell out of Regina while, incidentally, moistening her panties like a pre-wash.

Feeling she'd tortured the control freak enough, Emma pulled her shirt over her head. In the space of the shirt obscuring her vision, Regina's legs went from crossed to… not. She was shaved, maybe even waxed, something Emma had never had time for.

"Now then," Regina said, as if she were wearing a smart business suit instead of, well… lipstick. "Where's your vibrator?"

"What makes you think I have a vibrator?"

Regina held her hand up, palm up as if indicating the striptease, the naked lesbian in Emma's bed, the fifteen minutes they'd spent on breastplay in the hall, and the conversation's recent turn toward bondage and assorted sluttiness.

"It's a back massager," Emma said grumpily. "I used it on my back once."

"Give it to me," Regina ordered, her authoritative voice giving Emma chills in a very specific portion of her anatomy.

Without a nanosecond of hesitation, Emma opened up her nightstand, took out the copy of Chicken Soup For The Estranged Daughter's Soul that Mary-Margaret had gotten her to 'make up' for missing her fourth birthday, and retrieved the pink vibrator from underneath. It was pretty discreet. A little bigger than a lipstick tube, black. Emma had to fantasize extra hard to get it… effective. Just the cute pizza guy wasn't enough, you had to go straight-up Hugh Jackman.

Regina held out her hand. Emma dropped the vibrator into it and, like a gambler playing a with a coin, Regina flipped it over her fingers. "Not much to work with."

"What, you want me to run down to the Wal-Mart for a Hello Kitty one?"

Regina glared at Emma. "Say it again," she ordered, her voice forceful. "Say it!"

Emma breathed in hard. How could Regina do that to her, just… _stroke _her with a few words? "I want you."

Regina patted the bed next to herself. "Then come get me."

Emma laid down beside Regina, on her back. She felt like a weight had been lifted and yet she couldn't breathe. She was in bed with Regina, nearly naked, the other woman completely nude. They had kissed, they have touched each other, they had done everything short of what Emma had to think of as sex. And they would keep going into that realm, either with Regina taking control as she had so adroitly proven capable of or with Emma losing control and throwing herself on Regina like a starving lion. The fact that it was going to _happen _was unutterably comforting.

And yet, even with the secrets and lies and Regina-ness of it all put out of her mind… It'd been ages since College Girl, hell, since a man, and Regina was so beautiful and so… the kind of woman who deserved and expected to be worshipped. The woman who needed everything to be perfect. And Emma wasn't perfect. She wanted to run to the bathroom and shave her legs, brush her teeth, maybe get her business vajazzled—something!

Regina, sweetly smiling yet somehow exuding an air of smugness, like she'd _meant _to reduce Emma to a quivering virgin, danced her fingers over Emma's belly. Emma tried not to giggle as Regina probed a ticklish spot.

"You're nervous," Regina said.

"Just a little."

"I'm nervous. So why don't you be nervous for both of us and I'll be in control this time? Because I, for one," Regina's fingers walked up to Emma's bra, twanging the underwire mischievously, "know what I want."

"I know what I want," Emma breathed as the very tips of Regina's fingers ghosted over the lace of her bra.

"Yes. You want me." Regina's voice dropped like a stone, to land deep inside Emma. "You want me to fuck you."

"_Yes._"

"I'll give you what you want," Regina promised in her silky-smooth voice, the words seeming to run under Emma's coverings and over her skin. "And I'll take what I want."

"Take it." Emma's own words coming out halfway between pleading and growling. "Take me."

"Take you?"

Regina's fingers traced Emma's bra, tantalizingly crossing her breast before moving along the band, those devious fingers urging Emma to roll over, Emma helpless to disobey, turning her back on Regina so the witch could have unfettered access to the hook of her bra.

"You're already mine," Regina finished, opening Emma's bra to completely expose the satin flesh of her back, virgin territory demanding ownership. Regina ran her finger down Emma's spine, occasionally digging in with the nail, alternating between Emma's wincing and her moaning appreciation. Her finger ended at Emma's panties, slipping deliciously underneath to claw a sweetly rounded cheek.

Emma vibrated with a potent mix of pain and enjoyment, her only expression that of anxiousness.

"Mine," Regina said again, loud enough that it seemed the whole world might hear, though Emma knew her voice was barely above a conversational level.

"Yours," Emma replied, knowing without speaking what Regina wanted from her. She pulled her unhooked bra off her chest and held it off the side of the bed. Another wicked nick from Regina's fingernail and she let it drop.

"Now your panties. Give them to me."

It took a bit more athleticism than Emma would've credited herself for, but Emma managed to bring her legs up and skim her panties down them without ever putting herself out of Regina's immediate teach. The prick of Regina's fingernail was now her hand on Emma's ass, cupping the lovely curve, fingers sinking into the willing flesh as if staking her claim in bolder and bolder terms. By the time Emma passed her panties over her shoulder to Regina, it was starting to hurt. She loved it.

Not looking back, Emma felt the panties be pulled from her hand, and then heard an unmistakable intake of air. Regina was smelling her, the entire scenario suddenly bestial, predatory. God, and she thought Ruby had a wild side.

"You smell divine," Regina said, Emma's panties casually dropped from her fingers to the floor. "I bet you'll taste even better."

Emma nearly swallowed her tongue at the lovely threat. It'd been a long time since she'd had even a two-pump chump; the prospect of a proper 'meal' was like breaking a diet with a chocolate sundae.

The hand she'd passed her panties from still hung in the air, forgotten. Regina dropped the vibrator in it.

"Now," she said, "show me how you touch yourself."

"What?" Emma wasn't sure it was fair to ask her to speak when most of her blood had other places to be than her brain.

"Masturbation, Sheriff Swan? I trust you're familiar with it."

"Firsthand," Emma quipped, and felt Regina's hand tighten painfully on her ass, nails sinking in. _Mine. _"There's nothing special that I do, I just… you know… think of something sexy…"

"And am I not giving you ample material?" Regina whispered. Her lips were right in Emma's ear, close enough to bite it, and that was more 'ample material' than a fireman calendar.

"Your hand…" Emma whimpered.

"What about it?"

"If it were touching me… running over my body…"

And suddenly, Regina's hand was gone, not claiming her anymore. Emma nearly cried about before feeling it running over the back of her neck, the crook of a finger brushing her shoulder and arm.

"Would this suffice?" Regina purred, as if amused by the entire request.

"Yes… keep going…"

"Only if you start."

Regina's fingers now lazily, but pointedly, swishing over the same section of Emma's shoulder, Emma followed Regina's command. As per usual for her, it was unvoiced but undeniable. She twisted her vibrator's ring, turning its little motor on. The hum, low as it was, filled the room like white noise, lulling Emma further into this dream of Regina touching her, kissing her, treasuring her.

Regina's explorations now growing bolder, her fingers dragging over Emma's bare chest in pacing strides, Emma lowered the vibrator to her cleft. It seemed like a live wire in her hand, a dynamite with the fuse burning down. She could feel it without it even touching her. Then, without letting herself think twice, or even once, she brought it against her bare sex.

Her head pulled back. Her eyes shut tightly. Her body seemed to pull into itself to process the new feeling, expelling everything else in one hazy moan. Her family, her job, her life, it all dropped away, shouted out by the voice of desire.

"Good girl," Regina whispered in her ear, her body curving with Emma's like a shadow. "Slowly… slowly… be gentle… love yourself… yes… you have a magnificent body… you can't force it to feel pleasure… you have to ply it… relax it… give yourself permission to feel all the marvelous things that are happening to you…"

Her hand. It was running over Emma's breasts, making just the scantest contact with the stinging hardness of her nipples—even that brisk taunt sending a shock of relief to Emma's core, turning painful needing into perfect fulfillment. Emma kept touching herself. She went deeper.

"Keep going. That's it." Regina's voice raised, more strident, more forceful. Like this was of more importance, like Emma couldn't possibly disobey. "Deeper now. You're ready. It feels better, doesn't it, going further inside yourself. Touching places that you haven't in so long."

"Yes," Emma's voice called back, as if from a great distance. "It's good."

"I want to touch you there too. Can I, Emma? May I?"

"Yes… yes, you should."

The next thing Emma felt was Regina's finger, tapping at the soft vulnerability of her belly, the very bottom of it, just before the pleasurable hive of feelings between her legs.

"There are so many places to touch down here." Regina's voice seemed to slide right through Emma's ear, into her brain… down to her groin… her cunt. "Have you ever touched your clitoris?"

"No…"

"Why not?"

"Couldn't find it… too much work."

"May I look for it, Emma dear? I'd like to touch it."

"Yes—please."

"Good girl," Regina whispered, so low she almost couldn't be heard. "My girl."

Her finger circled Emma's sex, going lower, lower, seeming like it would join the vibrator inside Emma where all her pleasure was born, but not going there, going to the side, and back again, and over, and under, almost ticklish, Emma giggling through her ecstasy, the vibrator trilling away, Regina touching her, their bodies now thrust together as if by some irresistible force, the night wind and the crickets and the buzzing vibrator one great sound, surrounding them, keeping them safe inside their own little world where she was Regina's and Regina was hers and that was all there was.

And then Regina touched her clit.

Emma's mind went blank, her already trance-like state now invaded by Regina, the woman's touch and warmth and love filling her up as the vibrator sunk deep within her and Regina mercilessly strummed her clit, giving Emma no respite, just one pleasurable peak after another and no time to come down. And still her voice came into Emma's sanctum, filling it past the point of no return.

"Do you remember the week we first met? We got in some ridiculous argument and you decided to prove a point by chainsawing my prize apple tree?" Regina smiled as another wisp of her finger made Emma cry out. "I'll take that as a yes. I was so angry with you. It was all I could do not to curse you out in front of the whole town. But deep down, I wanted to _fuck_you. Yes, there was nothing I desired more than to pin you against my tree and finger your little pussy until I'd knocked every apple off its branch. Is that ample material for you, Emma? Is that enough to get you off? Or maybe, since you're _mine, _I just have to tell you that I want you to fucking _come_."

And for once in her life, Emma Swan did just as Regina Mills said.

* * *

Emma caught her breath, finding herself still in bed, still in Regina's arms, still _pleased _in some indelible way. Regina had a case of the giggles, smiling to herself like the cat that'd gotten the canary, peppering small kisses onto Emma's brow until Emma tried to push her away and then wrestling with her, pinning her to the mattress and kissing her again. Properly this time. Fully.

"Oh… wow. Did I actually bring you to orgasm, Sheriff?" Regina asked, her voice higher than before, back in her usual register. She rested her forehead's against Emma's, wanting to be able to kiss her at a moment's notice. "I almost feel like apologizing. I don't know what came over me. I've never been like that in bed—at least I don't think…"

"Don't apologize," Emma said weakly. "If you feel that bad about it, you can make it up to me by doing that just ten more times."

"Mmm. Ten times? Tomorrow morning, once before breakfast, once after, then maybe in the shower…" Emma felt her pulse starting to quicken. "Maybe we could go somewhere for lunch and… do something under the table, that's four, then maybe in the woods, out where anyone can see us."

"Because that worked out so well last time."

"Then, my place. My bed is very, very big. Lots of room to… spread out. So that's six. And I have a hot tub. Seven. Break for supper, where I'll fix you a homecooked meal. You can eat it off my naked body. Eight. Then, of course, once before bed and we'll call it a night."

"That's nine," Emma pointed out.

"One short. I guess we'll have to get it out of the way right now, otherwise we'll be stretching this all the way into the day after next and there goes the weekend."

"I've got nothing going on this weekend," Emma offered. "Maybe I could spend it over at your place. Getting those ten you owe me."

"But that means you'll go to sleep now." Regina pouted, mock-crestfallen. "I didn't even find out what flavor you are."

"Oh my god!"

Regina giggled some more and pulled Emma close. "Tomorrow. I can wait. But don't be surprised if you wake up to me humping your leg."

"You sound like my mailman."

Laughing and overcome with affection, Regina kissed Emma one last time and dropped her head to Emma's chest. She rejoiced in the physicality of Emma, how near she was, how open, how she was as easy to touch as her own skin. It was all she could do to keep her hand securely fastened to Emma's waist and not roaming her body for more erogenous zones.

"That was the best I can remember. I've never felt this way before." Giving into temptation, Regina petted Emma's skin, surprised and pleased that Emma let her. "Part of me is screaming at the rest of me to shut up and go to sleep, but this is very special to me. Sharing this with you. I feel like I should say something."

Emma turned a little, facing Regina and at the same time tangling their legs together. "You've done this before, though, right? I mean, that was… that was _not _amateur hour."

"Probably. I just can't remember." Regina tried hard to hold onto her smile. "I don't mind forgetting. Can't have been worth remembering if it was that memorable."

"So… I'm your first?"

"If you like, Sheriff Swan." Regina kissed Emma's nose. "Yes, I think you've definitely corrupted me."

"Mmm." Emma thought of herself, taking Regina's virginity for all intents and purposes, replacing what had come before. It wasn't such a bad thought.

She kissed Regina to put her at ease and winded her arms over the woman, like she could shield her through the night. And, feeling the steady cadence of Regina's breath against her collarbone, she went to sleep.

In an hour, she was wide awake. Screaming.


	9. Chapter 9

The dream was the same as always, just more intense, clearer. Like it was trying to get out of Emma, but having Regina around her was a cork, keeping it bottled up, trapped in Emma and trying to gnaw its way out.

She'd just gotten back from the Enchanted Forest, that wasteland that'd been left behind when Regina had taken her revenge, literal scorched earth. Her body still ached from a swordfight she'd been in. She needed a shower, a hot meal, a change of clothes, but all that could wait.

Regina had gotten her out, fairy dust and dark deals, looking at Emma and Mary-Margaret as she pulled them through the portal with some warped sense of ownership. Like doing this, taking this from Snow White, had somehow evened the books.

Books Emma knew could never be even.

There was a little celebration, like there always was when Mary-Margaret and David reunited, and Henry jumping all over Emma almost pulled her away from what she had to do. Because Regina was there, hanging at the outskirts like a besieging army looking for a hole in the defenses, coolly sizing up Storybrooke's defenders as Grumpy broke out a bottle of champagne.

Hours later, Henry had fallen asleep from all the excitement, having stayed up for days to get them back. Mary-Margaret and David took him home. Emma stayed. She waited while Regina's house emptied out, till it was just the two of them. She was in the parlor, alone but hearing Regina's motion through the rooms, the click of her heels like a riding crop being struck.

Finally, it came to the door. The knob turned. Regina stood there, poised as always, her hair fixed, her make-up perfect, while Emma still had dragon blood to wash off. They stared at each other, both of them so good at poker faces.

"I've wanted to talk to you," Regina said.

"Oh, you have no idea."

Regina entered the room, door shut behind her. She stalked around, making a show of cleaning up the remains of the party, after Emma's friends. "I didn't save you out of the goodness of my heart."

"That I believe."

"Henry needed a sign that I'd changed. And I've given him one. As well as you, I should think."

"Yeah, no." Emma shook her head. "No. Let's not even start on the 'I've changed, I want to be a good mom, I'm going to redeem myself' _bullshit_. Because I was in prison, Regina, I know that bullshit, okay? And I actually got my shit together without having someone to drag down with me, so this is me, right? Not in the mood."

Regina pursed her lips, still sizing Emma up. "You don't know me, Miss Swan."

"That's right. No one knows you. You keep everyone away so they don't realize what a crazy bitch you really are. Because if they knew, they'd have left me there just so you couldn't _use me_ to get to Henry."

"You will watch your tone with me, Swan. If nothing else, I took care of your child while you didn't _fucking _want him. You think you're mother of the year now because you changed your mind?

Regina moved in close, trying to intimidate Emma, and it almost would've worked—her, the voice of experience, rationality, success, power. But not this time.

"I talked to Cora."

Emma could see it, especially in the dream, see it like it was under a magnifying glass. Regina started to crack open. Her voice faltered, "Don't," trying to deliver some elaborate threat but all she could muster was that one word.

And Emma didn't listen. "She told me everything. And here I thought you were just some witch. But you were a girl once. Until you met my grandfather. And seduced him, and used him to get what you want, and _murdered him…"_

Regina shook her head hard (did Emma see tears in her eyes then? She did in the dream). "Get out of my house."

"You tried to kill your own mother. And you did kill a man who loved you, some stableboy, because he might get in the way of your royal wedding—"

Regina's hand moved of its own accord. There was no telling how long it'd been balled into a fist, but it hit Emma fast, sending her sprawling over Regina's desk, pictures and documents flying down with her. Emma saw herself surrounded by photos of a child, her child, a baby and a toddler and a kid, all the little moments that'd been stolen by Regina. Along with her grandfather. Along with her parents.

It pushed her further.

"You're a whore," Emma spat, tasting blood. "And I will never let you near Henry, not for one moment, you psychotic—"

Regina lunged onto Emma, driving her face into the hard oak of her desk, the splatter tingeing them both with blood. "You have no idea! No idea what I went through! You think—" And that was all Regina got out before she just started screaming, the sound of an animal caught in a trap, and flung Emma to the ground. Emma hit hard, her elbow making a nasty sound against the tile, and instinctively scrambled away as Regina stalked after her, teeth grinding in her mouth.

"What'd Cora tell you?" Regina demanded. "That you were her good girl? That you just had to do what she said and you'd be happy? _Huh? _That a _king _would be such a good husband for you, take such good care of you, give you so muuuuch…"

With another insane howl, Regina pulled the silverware set off the china hutch next to her, throwing the pieces across the room, at Emma, everywhere, just to hear them smash into the walls. Framed pictures broke, plaster crumbled, Emma cried out as a plate bounced off her knee.

"What exactly do you think I did, Emma? Do you think I had a choice? Your grandfather… making me prove I'd be a good wife. Because it was what he wanted. It was what my mother wanted. Everyone wanted it but me. Have you ever been purified, Emma? Given a gift to your true love and then had it erased from your body so a king could have his precious _blood _from you? Did Cora tell you about _that?_"

She'd run out of silverware. Now she pulled at the hutch itself until it fell over, smashing against the wooden floor with a perfectly resounding crash, the noise of destruction echoing through the house.

"You think I wanted to be queen?" Emma had long since fled, but she could still hear Emma. The woman was screaming. "I wanted to _run_! I would've traded everything to be the wife of a—stableboy," her voice cracked for a moment, like her rage was residing. Then it came back, stronger than ever; she pulled a poker from the fireplace and whipped it into the walls, clawing up the wallpaper, bringing down the evidence of her happy life, the signed certificates, the family photos, everything. "But she—wouldn't—let me! Your mother! She took _everything _from me because she wanted a goddamn _babysitter_!" Regina drove the poker into the wall, over and over again, cracking through the plaster until she hit wire. With a hiss of ozone, the room went dark.

It took a long time, but the poker slipped from Regina's hand. It seemed to make a lot of noise hitting the ground. Emma watched, hiding behind a corner, as Regina staggered through the room, crunching glass on unsteady feet. The only light came from the fireplace, the roaring fire that'd now burned down to red ash.

"Now he hates me too. Henry. You've stolen him from me. Just like your mother took Daniel. She wanted to be a daughter, you want to be a mother, and you always get what you want. Because you're _princesses_. You're special and I'm not. You should try being ordinary sometime. It's not very easy… I need some air."

She walked out the patio door, not seeming to notice the cracked glass, and disappeared into the night. That was the last Emma saw of her.

The woman that came back wasn't her… not quite. No one could really explain who she was. The rule was that if someone stepped over the boundary, they lost their knowledge of the Forest and became only their Storybrooke self. But Regina hadn't had one. She'd always been one and the same, the Evil Queen.

Emma thought that Regina Mills—the Mayor—was who Regina would've liked to have been. The family that she'd have wanted, dead now so they couldn't hurt her. The life she'd have wanted, a leader but not the kind Leopold had been, someone who gave to their people instead of taking. However Regina's intentions had warped in casting the Curse, there'd been at least part of her that just wanted peace.

It didn't really matter to Emma, what Regina remembered, what made sense to her and how it made sense. What concerned her—what kept pulling her to Regina, week after week, day after day, night after night—was whether Regina had known she was crossing the boundary. It seemed impossible that she hadn't, with the patrols. Had she just been unlucky enough to slip in between their route? Or had she waited for them to pass, thinking of what she'd done and what'd been done to her? A son who she'd never see, a head full of memories she'd crossed worlds to get away from, an entire town that hated her.

Maybe she didn't even know the magic would make her forget. Maybe, in her pain, she still thought it worked the way it did before. If you tried to leave, the curse stopped you. Permanently, even.

She'd wandered back, bloody and exhausted and cold, and collapsed, fever-ridden. By then the guilt had set in for Emma, the cold weight of Regina's words pressing down on her. She'd actually been cleaning up Regina's place, like a peace offering, when Regina collapsed outside.

Gold had figured out what'd happened to her and Emma had suggested the cover story, something out of an old movie. Regina couldn't be allowed to find out the truth about Storybrooke, because it would lead to the truth about herself, and that would lead to her trying again, maybe worse this time. So she was imprisoned in her own house. Paying for the crimes of a woman she wasn't anymore.

Now Emma had fallen in love with her, giving into the tension that'd always been there. Fallen in love with the woman Regina might've been, if not for Emma's family, fallen in love with the woman she _had been_, sweet and kind and loving. Not a hostile bone in her body.

And it was killing her. Stabbing her with the same dream, night after night, her mind replaying the last talk she'd had with the evil queen. But different this time, as if it weren't bad enough. This time, Regina ripped away her clothes like they were one big coat, and her naked body had the bruises Emma had seen in the mirror after their fight. The body she had spent that evening caressing, turned from artwork into desecration.

"Would you like me, Emma?" Regina asked, still in the sweet voice of her youth. No wonder Emma had fallen in love with it. So had her mother. Just wanting a new friend. "He wanted me. Do you think you could do as good a job breaking me in? Make me your queen, Emma. Cora would want me with someone who can take care of me…"

It wasn't that that made Emma wake up screaming. It was the kiss.

In the dream, Regina had the cold lips of a suicide, holding Emma's face with hands cut open at the wrist.


	10. Chapter 10

"Emma—Emma, stop, it's alright, you're just having a bad dream. Wake up, baby… it's alright." Regina's voice was cool and calming again, not the shriek Emma had heard in her nightmare, that soul-rending shriek as Regina had laid waste to her own home. She stroked Emma as she held her close, fingers smoothing over Emma's hair and back, feeling like sandpaper now.

"Let go of me," Emma said tersely, pulling away, falling to her hands and knees on the floor to root around for her clothes. In the bed, Regina pulled the sheets around herself, staring plaintively at Emma.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is it something I did?"

"No, it's not." Emma had found her socks. For lack of anything better, she pulled them on. "It's me. This was a mistake, it's my fault, I shouldn't be doing this, I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey." Regina went to Emma, the sheet still pressed to her body. Good thing too. Emma thought the sight of it might make her sick now. "Last night was a lot of things, but it wasn't a mistake. Now just… calm down and tell me what's going on. Is this about what you said before? About the truth?"

Emma couldn't say anything. Couldn't even move. She just stood there, a deer in the headlights, as Regina stepped closer. Her hands, like a torture device, cinched around Emma's head.

"You can tell me anything."

Regina's thumbs wiped at Emma's tears; her thumbs kissed away their moisture. It was too much for Emma to resist. "I was so used to you hating me. And now you don't but you're going to again. It feels like a part of me is being torn away. I didn't even know it was there…"

Regina hugged Emma to her, burying her mouth by Emma's ear. "Nothing could make me hate you."

Emma's head drifted from side to side. "It was my fault. We got into a fight before you had your… accident and that's why I had those bruises you saw."

"Oh my god." Regina petted Emma's hair desperately. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize to me! It's my fault this happened to you!"

Regina stopped, no longer caressing Emma, just holding her tight. "I don't understand. Why were we fighting?"

Emma spoke like a dead woman. "It was because I wasn't going to let you see Henry anymore. I was going to take him from you."

Regina just stared, uncomprehending. "Why—"

"It's not important," Emma whispered into Regina's clavicle, still clinging onto the feel of Regina's arms around her, though they felt less and less like an embrace. More and more like a cage. "I was wrong about you, okay? I thought you were a bad mother."

"And now?"

"Now I think you were trying and no one made it easy for you. You were trying so hard…"

Regina finally let go. Her voice wasn't the self-satisfied purr of the evil queen, wasn't the sweet needfulness of Regina Mills. Wasn't much of anything. "What else?"

Emma couldn't meet her eyes, even though Regina wasn't looking at her. She was looking past her. "Henry isn't at boarding school. I thought you couldn't take care of him, so… he's with me." Emma's lips were dry. It was weird how much she wanted to lick them. "You haven't been having relapses either. We think that the memories you lost are just gone. Including the last few weeks. We couldn't let you walk around town, asking questions, so we… Regina, if you had seen Henry…"

"No, no that's not it." Regina walked behind Emma, making her expect a knife in the back. Maybe that's why she didn't turn around. "All that just to steal Henry? You wouldn't. Whatever I forget, I remember you. You're a good person, Emma. You came for me through the fire."

Regina reached for her again. This time Emma couldn't take it. She pulled her clothes on, not caring what she put on backward or inside out. "You wouldn't believe me."

"I'm naked in your bed. Credit me with some open-mindedness."

That actually pulled a laugh from Emma. "Get dressed. I'll try to show you."

* * *

Most cops had safes they kept their firearms in when they were off-duty. Emma's was a little more crowded than most, since her family had put Regina's dangerous magical items in it. Emma punched in the code, not worried about Regina seeing it. Her eyes were only on Emma.

"You remember that book Henry used to carry around?"

Even now, Regina managed to scoff. "The one that said I was the evil queen."

Emma's eyes went low. "There was a lot it left out."

Regina bit the inside of her cheek. "So everyone in this town is a fairy tale character and you're their savior. Is that why we can't be together? Because Doctor Octopus might be able to get to you through me?"

"I know, it's insane, but I can prove it." Emma found what she was looking for in the safe. A leather cover that felt darkly close to skin.

Regina crossed her arms. "Whatever the punchline is to your little joke, I hoe you're not expecting us to be having sex again by the weekend."

Emma brought the book out slowly, like she was moving a bomb. It silenced Regina.

"Is this familiar to you?" Emma asked.

Regina shook her head, but it took an effort. "I must've seen it at a store, or in a magazine…"

Emma said nothing. She'd said too much already. Instead, she leafed through the book, looking for something harmless to prove her point. She didn't notice Regina backing away.

After a moment of panic, seeing all the curses that could be cast, she found something suitable for her purposes. There were no instructions though, just a set of strange runes. Her eyes blurred. When she closed them, the black was tinged with purple. She opened her eyes, looking at Regina. And in a moment, Regina was pulled up in the air nearly to the ceiling.

Regina was only as surprised as she usually was, her eyes slightly wider than usual, but then her legs started to pedal in the air. She looked to Emma again, her face full of fear. "Set me down, Emma! Set me down right now!"

Emma tried to, thinking hard on Regina hitting the ground, then redoubling her thoughts on Regina floating down, like a feather. Instead, Regina just dropped. She hit the carpet tangling arms and legs, and left herself splayed out. Emma ran to her, putting no more than a hand on Regina but needing that one connection like air. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Regina said between deep breaths. "It just—felt wrong."

"That's okay, we're okay." Emma jammed the spellbook to the back of the safe. "There. It's locked up and we're never going to touch it again."

Regina nodded. "Magic comes with a price." And then, like her body was being wrenched back from somewhere, someone, else—She threw her hands around her ears. "Why did I say that? Where'd it come from?" She looked at Emma like there was nothing else, and it might've been true. What else was any comfort to her? "_Who am I?_"

Emma sat down on the floor beside her. "Come on. You're Regina Mills. You're the most prepossessed woman I know—"

"And who else? A queen? A witch? A monster?" Emma was shaking her head. "Tell me!"

She threw her against Emma, pushing her against the wall, but even that was wrong, not threatening, not evil, just pathetic.

Emma ran her hands over the arms holding her, soothing the achingly tense muscles. "You're _Regina. _You were born poor and grew up only wanting to marry your true love. But an evil witch cast a spell on you. You became someone you didn't want to be and you hurt people, even though you only wanted them to love you. But the curse is over. You're you again."

"And is that all I am?"

"All that matters." Emma drew her close. "Take it from me, you don't just go to prison. You lead a life that takes you there. And when they let you out of prison, they let you have a choice. You can go right back in, or you can start a new life. We have a new life, Regina. Just don't give up on it."

* * *

"Tell me… would you love me if I were still her?"

"No. I love the woman you've become."

The answer seemed to satisfy Regina. She went back to her coffee, her newspaper. Her eyes had a way of sliding off Emma that stung a little each time, but more and more their eyes would meet. Hold.

Around them, the diner was at its usual bustle. Over the past week, they'd gotten used to Emma bringing Regina in, sitting with her. Sometimes they didn't even order, sometimes they didn't even look at each other. But Emma looked at anyone who stared too long, gave them a dead-eyed glare that sent them on their way. Regina was with her. Anyone who didn't like it could go jump a beanstalk.

Emma stifled a sudden grin. Regina's stocking-clad foot, free of its shoe, was caressing her leg. Not looking up from the crossword, Regina smiled as well. "Six letter word meaning to bring someone to your own point of view or position; third letter D."

"'Seduce.'"

"And people say you're not smart."

"No they don't."

"Of course they don't."

All said in the time it took Regina's toes to climb to Emma's calf.

"Hi, uh… guys."

Like they had been lassoed by the same rope, Regina and Emma's heads swung to the side. Henry was standing outside their booth, his backpack dangling from his hand.

"The lunch lady served bone-bread again, so I thought I could get lunch here. Is that okay?"

"It'd be fine," Regina said, scooting down to make room for Henry.

He looked to Emma; she gave the slightest nod and Henry climbed up beside Regina.

"So, the new mayor lets the school district grind bones to make bread?" Regina asked Emma.

"I'll have a talk with the lunch lady. Apparently, bones are very nutritious."

"Well, nutrition isn't everything." Regina held up the menu for the two of them. "What looks good, Henry? Is it too late for waffles?"

"Waffles are fine."

"Excellent." Regina held up her hand, expertly summoning Ruby's attention. "An order of waffles. Use the low-sugar syrup."

Emma groaned. "Regina, syrup _is _sugar. If you're going to spoil the kid, at least do it right."

Regina looked between the two of them. Henry was innocently draining his glass of water.

"Brussels sprouts tonight," she insisted, pointing at Emma. "Don't let him get away with sneaking them to the gnomes, I don't care how amusing you find it. I'll know."

"You're not coming to dinner?" Henry asked her.

"Well, I…" Now a little frantic, Regina looked at the two of them. "As you know, we're taking things slow and we'd hate to… confuse you or in any way leave you emotionally vulnerable."

"Mom, it's just dinner. I'll eat my Brussels sprouts. No big."

Henry grabbed at Emma's menu, looking for an appetizer Regina might spring for as long as she was spoiling him. He didn't catch Regina looking at Emma, stunned and proud, mouthing "He called me mom."

Emma looked back, ineffably pleased with herself, and winked.


End file.
